


To Star.

by AphantaRay



Category: Star vs. The Forces Of Evil
Genre: College, F/F, Fluff, I'm Told This Is Extremely Gay, Poetry, Post-Canon, Romance, Spicy, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 23:13:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29197398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AphantaRay/pseuds/AphantaRay
Summary: After enduring a terrible poetry night at the campus pub, Star and Janna recover with a private impromtu reading of their own.
Relationships: Star Butterfly/Janna Ordonia
Comments: 3
Kudos: 5





	To Star.

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Stop My Heart, Hope You Die](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23166418) by [IncurablePeppermint](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IncurablePeppermint/pseuds/IncurablePeppermint). 



> The original author's setting has Janna crushing on Star so hard that she follows her to attend the same college. At the school, Janna majors in English Literature with a focus on Keats.
> 
> This story takes place a year or two later.

Star leads Janna by the hand as she kicks open the lobby door to get out into some fresh air, away from the stale smell of body spray and cheap beer back in the dark and dingy little college pub. She turns to Janna with a look of relief as she pulls the two of them into a leisurely nighttime walk around the campus.

“Well, that was… something, huh?” Star suggests, clearly trying to be polite.

“ _Something_?” Janna asks. Even _that_ would be too generous. “That was _rough_ , dude. Poetry is _not_ supposed to sound like that. My soul _left my body_ when that guy did a play on ‘Roses are Red’. I’m gonna need to do a séance just to get it back.”

Star laughs. Janna squeezes Star’s hand and smiles, then playfully continues her rant.

“When are they going to start screening these guys? If I have to hear one more idiot droning on about how great his girlfriend is or how sad he is that his crush doesn’t like him I’m going to throw a chair at the stage. Remind me why we keep coming back to these?”

“Because they’re fun! They’re cute. Be nice.”

Janna smirks and raises an eyebrow at Star.

“Be nice!” Star insists, sincere. “Come on, even you have to admit there were a few good lines in there! Like… uh… _When you’re not there // The sun is clouded // By hazy despair_? Or… uh… what was it… _When I see your shining orbs in the light of day // It makes me wish we could just get away // To a tropical island where I’d love you forever and ever if you’d stay_. Pretty good, right?”

Of course, Janna thinks to herself, Star would find something to love in that abysmal performance.

“But yeah,” Star concedes, “It kind of fell flat by the end, huh? It’s been a while since there was a really good poet up there. Who was that one girl we liked?”

“Jo.”

“Yeah! Josie Bones! She was so good. Her stuff made me feel some kind of feeling, you know?”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. She made the room hot. Always felt like I was wearing too many layers.”

“There wasn’t a single woman up there tonight, huh? You think that’s why?”

“Ladies know what’s up, Star.”

“Guys are fine sometimes, but _these_ guys? Kind of yikes. Like, where’s the subtlety? Where’s the heart?”

“Gone, dude. Out the window. On the ground. Stomped into oblivion. Someone put him out of his misery.”

A giggle brightens the night.

After a few minutes of silent joy in each other’s company under the starlight, Star lets go of Janna’s hand to observe something on the ground closely. A creature hopped under a bench out of the light of the streetlamps nearby. A frog? Star waves at Janna to be quiet and come see.

In the shadows, there’s a little mouse scared stiff, just barely visible when Star points right at him. The two girls marvel at the creature for a moment before Star puts out her hand to it, a peace offering. Janna silently scoffs to herself. Star really thinks she can ease the heart of any scared little creature she comes across. Janna wonders how she ended up with someone so good.

She can barely believe it when the mouse peeks its head out into the light and cautiously approaches Star, inching close enough for a gentle finger to caress its forehead.

“She’s so soft!” Star coos quietly, then whispers to Janna to try petting it too.

But when Janna leans forward to try to touch it, she stumbles a bit and knocks both her and Star off balance, scaring the creature back into the darkness.

After Star gives up on trying to coax the mouse back out, Janna offers a consolation, “You know if you want to see more mice, I know a place.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, the kitchen at the cafeteria. I think they’re running the dishwasher by his hair or something.”

“Janna.”

Janna thinks about it for a moment then seriously asks, “You want a pet mouse?”

“What? No! I couldn’t put a cute little guy like that in a cage, Janna, that’s awful.”

Janna chuckles, “That sounds right.”

“But if you do see one, send me a picture?”

“You and the health inspector,” Janna replies with a smile.

The edge of the campus opens up onto a street full of closed shops. One has its light on – a late night coffee shop popular with students who want something a little nicer and affordable than the stuff that comes out of the on-campus by-the-cup machines.

They find a table in a quiet corner by the window while they wait for their drinks. Star dances her fingers across the table and turns her palm up expectantly, and Janna places her hand in Star’s. Where it belongs. They share a smile.

Over the first few sips of their drinks, they make comments about the coffee and the café’s ambiance, and about how they miss the terrible coffee shops back in Echo Creek – more for the people behind the counter than the fare.

Star is looking adoringly at Janna when her eyes light up with a thought.

“You know I was thinking, I never see _you_ up on stage reading poetry, Miss Critic,” she continues their earlier conversation, giving Janna a coy smile, “You must be hiding some really good stuff for your debut, right?”

Janna slouches back in her seat and looks away, “Come on, you know I don’t—”

“—Yeah yeah, I know the story – which is _very_ believable by the way. ‘Hi my name is Janna Ordonia I have been obsessively reading and studying poetry for most of my life but I _never_ write it.’ Please. I don’t know who you’re fooling with that, J, but it’s not me.”

Janna is undone by Star’s insistence.

“You could at least _pretend_ to be fooled – you know, because you love me? And because you’re not the kind of person who would throw someone into a volcano—”

Like she’d been holding her breath, Star suddenly blurts out, “—When are you gonna show me your book??”

“What… book?”

“The one you keep in your bed! I’ve been dying to know what’s in it. Poem? Is it poems?”

Janna looks stunned.

“Oh, it’s totally poems! I can see it in your face! _Janna_!” Star is absolutely tickled with herself right now.

“That’s… How did you find that…?” Janna asks, knowing already that it’s kind of a stupid question.

“Janna, I sleep in your bed like half the week. How was I _not_ going to find a book under your pillow?” Star scoffs, “If you didn’t want me to find it, you should’ve put it somewhere a little less obvious. I’d expect better from the master thief.”

“Yeah, how careless of me. Ha ha…” Maybe if Janna were being honest with herself, she’d have to admit she wasn’t _trying_ to hide it. “Wait so you found my journal but you never read it?”

“No! That’s your personal private business, J. I’m no snoop. I know how it feels. My mom used to read my diaries all the time and pick fights with me about what was in there. My personal, private, non ‘Book of Spells’ diaries, Janna. No matter how hard I tried to hide them. Just to get mad at me. It was awful.”

“Yeah. Your mom, huh? What uh… what else about your mom do you… want to talk about…”

“No, come on, please. Don’t change the subject. I want to see your stuff! I bet it’s really good! You don’t have to be shy about it. Please. Pleaaase. Please please please—”

“—I’m not shy!”

“So? Show me!”

“… Listen, my poetry? Not gonna lie: it’s fantastic. There’s a reason I’m so hard on these clowns at poetry night.”

“So?”

“It’s just… the subject matter is very…” Janna trails off.

“I bet It’s full and death and skeletons, right? _The beauty of the impermanence of life_ or something? Don’t worry, you can’t scare me off. I know Janna ‘Edgy Grimdark’ Ordonia over here has never seen a beautiful woman or a breath-taking starlit sky in her whole life.”

“ _They’re all breath-taking when you’re lighting… them…_ ” Janna dumbly recites a line from one of her worse compositions. How does Star…

Star smiles knowingly. Janna’s face takes on a look of terror for a moment, the terror of being known, of being stripped naked and put on a stage. Then she sighs with relief. Star actually _did_ read them already, and there is nothing but love in her eyes.

“You’re really turning into your mom, huh?”

“I know! It’s the worst.”

“How much did you…”

Star pinches her finger and thumb together so close that they are almost touching, “Just a peek.”

“…And you want more?”

Star nods enthusiastically.

Janna looks out the window at the clear night sky. The endless void. Stars fading into dust. Nothing matters in the largeness of the universe and the inevitability of time.

Then she looks at her hand in Star’s, at her lover’s bright smile. This person – right here, right now, looking at her with such pleading, adoring eyes – these moments with her that somehow outshine and outlast every star in the sky – there’s no reasoning with it, but this stuff matters.

“Alright fine,” Janna gives Star a reluctant smile, “You twisted my arm. Let’s go back to my place after this.”

Star pumps her fist victoriously.

They finish their coffee, Star waves a cheerful goodnight to the barista, and they return to the dorm.

When they get to Janna’s room, they sit side-by-side on Janna’s bed. Janna pulls the book out from under her pillow and hurriedly flips past the more embarrassing stuff.

Star entangles her fingers with Janna’s and kisses her cheek as a thank you for being so sweet about sharing this treasure.

Janna makes her way through the journal, stopping on carefully curated pages of her work with Star, letting Star read each page in silence, explaining what she means about this and that, pointing out especially bad poems, and being absolutely bewildered when Star seems to enjoy some of her worst work.

“Thought you had better taste than that, Starshine,” she jokes.

“I love what I love, what can I say?” Another peck of affection lands on Janna’s face, then Star returns her attention to the book.

But before they can even get past the next page, Star explodes with a sudden and brilliant idea, “Janna! Read them!”

“What? Out loud?”

“Yeah!” Star launches herself out of the bed and sits in a chair. She grabs a notebook and a pen from Janna’s desk and holds them up like she’s checking something off on a clipboard, “Janna Ordonia, you’re needed on stage!”

Janna smiles to herself at how silly this feels, but when she sees how happy it’s making Star, she can’t say no.

She stands up on her stage of a bed in this theater for one – book of poems in nervous hands.

She’s never done this before.

“Are we really doing this?” she asks – but not because she wants to stop.

“Yes! Do your best! Bring subtlety and heart back, dude. I believe in you!”

Janna labors over which poem to read. It should be something impersonal. She doesn’t want Star to see… too much of herself, and some of the stuff in here is so revealing that even in private it would make her turn red.

“Uh… okay here’s one,” Janna says, having settled on one of her proudest – though incomplete – pieces of work. “This one is inspired by my boy. Actually, most of these are inspired by Keats.”

Star nods, “Obviously.”

“Obviously,” Janna echoes, “He wrote a sonnet about how there are four seasons to a person. This is a response to that.”

Star’s adoring eyes strip Janna to the bone. She swallows her uneasiness and tries to act undaunted.

“Okay here we go. It’s called…”

####  _More seasons fill the measure of the year._

_More seasons fill the measure of the year  
Than one man’s mind who counts them on a hand  
We others know more features than he planned  
Than beauty, lust, and youth, and misfeature_

_(Summers I & II)_

_Our first summer breathes heavy, leaping fast  
By branches drawing clawed fruit stem to lip  
Soon ruddy, gasping – gawking when they trip  
Tumble to waiting arms, to love at last_

_The longest days die by Apollo’s haste  
That second summer rushed in to detest  
‘Fore then free to dream ‘pon warmest breast  
Now shaken off in shame to’ve let it waste_

_Pits and cores scattered scant steps past, in woe  
Weigh many seasons yet before they grow  
~  
_

Janna pauses and looks up from the page. Star is giving her a very serious look. The poem must be awful. Why did Janna agree to do—

“Is there more?” She asks hungrily, surprising Janna.

“Oh. Uh. This one’s not finished.”

“What! That’s only two seasons! Two isn’t more than four, Janna. You can’t leave me hanging on a cliff like this, what are the other seasons??”

Janna smiles at Star’s eagerness, “I haven’t written it out yet, but I was going to say there are three in fall, four in winter, and one in spring.”

“So… hold on… ten? Why ten?”

“No reason, it just felt right. Like, if the two summers are like a dash and then a sudden jerk backwards at the end, fall is like… moving forward slowly. You get a little consolation for summer being gone by the harvest, right? With that consolation, there’s this idea that even when you lose something good, there’s more in the future, and that helps you walk forward. Halloween’s fun, and you leave it behind looking forward to Thanksgiving, looking forward to Christmas, always looking forward with the promise that something good is coming even as all this good stuff fades away.”

“That’s kind of weirdly sad.”

“Yeah that’s… life, dude. Then winter has four seasons because it’s just… long, and still. I was going to write about the first season being a feeling of awe at the sudden change, at the first snowfall. The next one was about being warm with the people you love – if you’re lucky enough to have them. The third one was about being cold and lonely in a night that never seems to end. And the fourth one was the return of hope that the darkness will go away. And then spring was just going to be… rebirth. Like, you know how one day all the branches are just sticks, and it always feels like the next day everything has already exploded in green, and then it’s practically summer again already? Like, what even _is_ spring, dude?”

“Wait so the last season is Spring? I thought this was supposed to be about the seasons of a human’s life. Humans don’t get reborn at the end… or… wait, do they? Are humans immortal? I feel like that would have come up at some point, but now that I think of it, I don’t think I’ve ever seen one of you die…”

“No, dude, we are very mortal. But it’s sad to think that the darkest time in our life is where it all ends. Like, what did we learn, then? When all the good things in life are behind us, we still have to look forward with hope, right? And even after I’m gone, there’s something here, something new, something that explodes innocently into joy again.”

Star nods thoughtfully.

“Anyways,” Janna tries to deflect. She realizes she got pulled way too far into explaining this one. Maybe it was more personal than she thought. “I’m probably not going to finish it.”

“Aw, really? The first part was… _really_ good.”

Janna can’t help feeling giddy when she hears praise from Star about her work, but she does her very best to keep a revealing grin from forming on her face. “Well, maybe I’ll give it another shot.”

Janna flips around her journal again to find another poem to read. She smiles to herself and wonders if Star will get this one.

“Okay another sonnet here.”

“Another one? Do you only do sonnets?”

“Sonnets are a staple of a Keats lover’s diet, Star. You got a problem with these fourteen sacred lines? Do we have to have a duel at dawn?”

“Psh, as if you could beat me in a duel.”

“Yeah? Who won last time?”

“… You cheated, that doesn’t count.”

“Ah but is it really cheating if I always cheat?”

“Yes!”

“You should really just factor that into the rules of the duel. It’s not fair to the honesty-deficient participants.”

Star shakes her head, “Just read your poem already, J. Your sonnets are perfect, I was just teasing.”

“This one’s called ‘The injustice of your love.’—”

“No _way_.”

“What?”

“A love poem? Janna?? Are you serious?”

“Hey! I feel things too, Star!”

“You were ready to throw furniture at those guys today for being too sappy on stage!”

“Because their ‘love poetry’ is garbage!”

“Yeah? And yours is…?”

“Refined. Elegant. _Inspired_.”

Star laughs, “Okay fine, let’s hear it, _Lady Ordonia_.”

Janna clears her throat indignantly before she begins.

####  _The injustice of your love._

_Anubis weighs a heart to feather light  
Losing that wager, Ammit has her meal  
Oh, but your ascension they will steal  
What heap of hearts could hope to pass that rite?_

_I count them time to time, lament your fate  
Your affections pour out on every page  
Marginalia fit for august stage  
Lose these, I beg you, do not add their weight_

_The hearts that light your cheeks aren’t cruel enough?  
No, on every lovely surface they must live  
Plainly in sight, so freely that you give  
Shed these too, that the Judge would not rebuff_

_But please, take one heart, though it spoil your test  
That one – plucked beating from my heavy chest  
~  
_

When Janna looks up, Star has put her notebook down.

“Is that about me?” she asks, bewildered.

“Dude, come on. It’s a love poem. Who else was it going to be about?”

“I don’t know. You dated Tom for a while.”

“Yeah well, Tom was fun, but he didn’t exactly make my heart sing.”

Star is fidgeting with the hem of her dress when she asks, “When… did you write this? I haven’t had hearts on my cheeks in a long time.”

“It’s a metaphor, like how people wear their heart on their sleeve. Your heart’s right there on your face for everyone to see, every time you smile and laugh and even when you cry, even without magic.”

“Can I read it again?” Star asks, reaching out for the notebook.

Janna hands the book over and sits down on the bed waiting for Star to finish looking it over. She feels like she’s done something wrong, but that feeling is quickly allayed by Star’s smile.

Star shakes her head, “It sounds pretty but I don’t think I get it.”

“Do you know about Anubis?”

“Kind of? He’s in an old myth or something?”

“Yeah, an Egyptian god. He judged the sins of your life by weighing your heart. It had to be lighter than a feather or you’d get thrown into hell.”

“You think my heart is too heavy?”

“No! Yours is… You’d be fine if it was just your heart on the scale. But it’s not fair, because you’ve got so many hearts. You’ve got…” Janna's voice falters, “Mine.”

Star smiles with understanding, “Ah, you think _your_ heart is too heavy.”

“Yeah well, I’m not exactly a shining example of how to be a good person.”

Star sits on the bed next to Janna and takes her hand, trying to meet her eyes, “J, come on, I’ve seen you do some amazing things to make the world a better place – and not just your anti-establishment sabotage stuff. The protests you go to? The letters you write? Even your vandalism makes the right people feel safer. Every day you wake up hell bent on messing up the world, and it’s so cool to watch.”

“But it’s not the same—”

“—You inspire me to be better, to do more. Like, I was _extremely_ done with putting myself out there. And then you roped me into helping you out with your stuff, like that anarchist free food thing? That felt good. Walking around with you tearing down racist posters? Standing and shouting with you at rallies? I love all that. Like, you showed me there are tons of ways to change things – without magic. You pulled me back, you know? Seeing how important that stuff is to you, it makes me want to do more too.”

Janna cracks a smile, chuckles to herself in a defeated tone, and says, “That’s not fair. You’re supposed to be _my_ inspiration.”

Star leans over and bumps her forehead into Janna’s, “We can inspire each other, you know. That’s allowed.”

“Yeah. That’s… I like… that.” Janna locks eyes with Star for a moment – before Star brings their lips together for a kiss.

Janna clings to the moment. Her doubts fade away as Star’s fingers caress her cheeks and get lost in her hair. Janna tries to mimic the gesture, but she’s never quite got it right in all the time she’s been with Star.

As their lips part, Janna presses her forehead into Star’s. She takes Star’s hand, pulling those gentle fingers from behind her neck, and holds it between her palms.

“I have another poem I want to read you,” she says.

A warm smile spreads from Star’s lips to her eyes, “More love poetry?”

“Yes. But fair warning, this one’s from the ‘after dark’ section.”

Star coyly replies, “I don’t see the sun anywhere.”

Janna untangles her fingers from Star’s to find the poem in her journal. It’s written on a page covered in scratches out and alternative wordings. It would be impossible for anyone else to make sense of it, and even Janna wasn’t always sure how it was supposed to go, but there was no question how to navigate it right now, here, so close to Star.

####  _To be heard, as hands are._

_Wordless - though what unimaginable force could silence you? - you reach me with your touch  
These hands that have torn kingdoms to the ground and forged new realities  
When shy, fiddle with mine so low, and then, Escherian, these pieces lock into place  
How? How do such disparate digits interface?  
When they break, tender tips trace the skin  
Across my lips, a prelude to a kiss  
My hair trapped in their passion  
Those vandals of my back  
I hear them singing 'love'_

_When I try to reach you I remember that I never learned how to be soft  
Still I try, hoping, quivering  
Arms drape over your shoulders, hands in a heap on your chest hoping to be held, hoping you'll never know  
I don't know where they belong when I'm alone  
But with you they know without me how to exploit your weakest landmarks  
That they have stumbled on so dumbly, so innocently  
Like a child, teasing at forbidden lands to bend your lips into such shapes  
These five thieving fingers steal your dignity  
Trace you like a map back to jubilation  
Spell that treasure out in staggering lines  
Couplets in rounds are not for this, not now  
Now they trill and tremble, hoping to be heard  
Without a word to ruin what it means  
~  
_

By the end of the poem, Star is biting her lip and fidgeting in her seat.

“Wow. J. That was…”

Janna suddenly feels like a fool for reading it – so unfinished and messy.

“It’s rough, isn’t it? Ugh, it doesn’t even rhyme… and the imagery is all over the place…”

Star crawls across the bed and gets right in Janna’s face to interrupt her wallowing, “—How about you stay quiet for a bit and stop being so hard on yourself. My hands would like a word with you.”

Star has a lot to say. The night disappears in a haze of romantic whispers and gestures that leave Janna utterly speechless in response.

Janna manages to catch her breath after Star has said her piece. She sighs dreamily, “That was… a glowing review…”

Star is resting the back of her head on Janna’s belly, holding the book of poetry in the air like a cherished treasure and reading through more of Janna’s work.

“Totally deserved it. This stuff is so good. It’s a crime to hide it under your pillow.”

Janna idly runs her fingers through Star’s hair, “You really think I should go on stage with it?”

“Yeah totally!” Star catches herself, dropping the notebook at her side and raising herself up to give Janna serious look, “But not _that_ one! I would _die_. You’d send me straight to that Anubis guy.”

Janna gives Star a mischievous smile, “You can’t censor me, Star. I’m an unstoppable force of chaos.”

“Yeah fine, I can’t censor you, but I can still rush the stage and throw the mic out the window.”

Janna thinks about it for a few moments, then replies that she’ll put her name on the list for the next show.

“When do I get to hear your poetry, Starshine?”

“Oh, I can’t do all this fancy structured stuff. I’m all about freestyling.”

“Alright dude, show me what you’ve got.”

“Okay. Let me channel my muse. Hmmmm… Got it. _Roses are red // Janna is cool // I’m really lucky // She came to this school_.”

“Wow. Terrible. I love it.”

“Yeah? You want more? I can torture you all night if you want. How about this: _There once was an Echo Creek girl // Who wanted to shake up the world_ …”

Janna smiles and listens to Star’s awful freestyle poetry while they cuddle in her bed, until at last quiet fills the room and, curled up with each other, fingers intertwined, they fall asleep.


End file.
